Dark Paradise
by allihavetodoisdream
Summary: She lives in a make-believe world of open roads and endless freedom to escape an addiction-riddled mother and a grabby older man with sick intentions. Adrift in a place of uncaring hearts, she makes her getaway. She finds a ratty old motel, late night smokes, a new life, and a boy with a past as clouded as her own. A boy with a dark gentleness too beautiful to ignore.
1. Cruel World

**Hi, everyone! (: New story! Inspired by Lana Del Rey's "Ride" video. **

**Some warnings to take to heart:**

**There will be an age gap between Bella and Edward. Edward will be 26 and Bella will be 16 at the start. They will age, though, as the story progresses. If this is an issue for you, though, this might not be the story for you ;)**

**This chapter contains references to sexual abuse. If that is a trigger warning for you, feel free to PM me if you'd like more information.**

**Dark themes will be at play throughout the entire story, but I don't see it ever being any more intense than the first two chapters.**

**All the characters will be incredibly flawed. Please keep that in mind.**

**And now, please continue reading if you'd like (:**

* * *

**1. Cruel World  
**

I didn't like the way he looked at me.

I never did.

He always found excuses to touch me, to run his hand down my arm or brush his fingers on my cheek. I would hold still and be quiet, staring up at him with my empty eyes until he stopped. He'd laugh, say something cruel.

Mom was always too high to notice.

* * *

"Don't touch me," I whisper one night when he grabs my wrist.

His breath smells like beer and cigarettes and heat. He tightens his hold around my skin and bones, bruising me, but I still don't try to pull away. I've seen what happens to Mom when she fights back, and I can't afford to have a black eye at school. The girls already say enough about me.

"You're so pretty, Bella girl," he says against my temple.

His touch and words disgust, and my stomach roils.

"Let go," I say, my voice a hollow hum.

"Prettier than your mama." James' free hand skims down my neck, his fingers tapping against my pulse. "And so young and sweet. Your mother's a whore, you know. Worn out. Broke in."

I shut my eyes. I imagine myself somewhere else, somewhere pretty—not in this dusty-dry Texas desert where the air cooks and the trailer suffocates. It's all I know, but I feel the desire for so much _more_.

"Give me a kiss, little girl."

"Stop," I say, his voice ruining my dreams, cutting through images of paradise and open road and pulling me back to this broken-old place we live. "Just stop."

"Kiss me," he says, and the fingers on my neck become restrictive. He tightens them and shoves me back against the wall. My head aches and my heart strains.

I could scream, but no one would come to check on me. This is a place of minded-business and don't ask, don't tell.

I could beg, but drunken minds don't listen.

I could cry, but he would only like that.

I can't help the little tear that falls from the corner of my squinted-shut eye, though.

"Let go," I say again, trying to go numb to quiet the cold-rising panic in my stomach.

His fingers tense against my throat, and it's getting hard to breathe. His eager lips are only a whisper away from mine, and I want to die. I do. I wish I were dead so I could at least be free.

But Mom comes home and ruins his plans.

As soon as her key hits the lock, he lets me go and falls back onto the couch. Mom walks in to find me teary-eyed and frozen against the wall, but she barely notices. Her consumed black eyes are too drug-hazy to see.

So I just go to my room and lock my door, knowing that if James really wanted to, not even that could stop him.

* * *

"Hey," I say to Sam.

He glances over at me from beneath the hood of a broken-down car and frowns. It's his way of saying hello.

"I need a favor," I murmur quietly, squinting in the hot-dry sunlight.

Sam straightens to his full, towering height. He's comically larger than me, standing a good foot and a half taller. He's big and muscular and dark, wearing an oil-stained T-shirt. He's halfway in love with me and it radiates grudgingly out of his deep, brown eyes.

"What?" he asks.

"Do you have a gun?"

Sam is a man of few words, and even fewer expressions, so his face never changes. He just shrugs.

"How much?" I inquire.

"Why do you need a gun, Bella?" Sam wipes his hand on an old shop rag and tosses it to the other side of his garage.

The apparent owner of the car he's working on peeps in from the closet-space that's called an office. "Close to being finished?" the woman asks. "I have that meeting I told you about."

Sam just stares at her and she quickly ducks back inside. He's not known for customer service, but everyone in town gets their car fixed by him because he can do it right.

"Why?" Sam asks me again.

"Protection. Mama's dealing with unsavory people," I say.

"You don't even know how to shoot."

"I'm sure I can learn."

Sam rolls his eyes and looks away from me, back to the inside parts of the car. "You know it would be illegal."

"It goes without saying."

"Well, I am saying it." Sam's irritable. "Because if you get caught with it, you'll be wishing you'd have listened."

"I won't get caught," I say softly. And then I add, "Please?"

Sam blows out a breath and then meets my eyes again. There's conflict warring in his gaze. He finally just looks away, shakes his head.

* * *

I touch the gun carefully. It's cold and heavy in my hand. It feels electric-dangerous.

I hide it under my bed.

* * *

I'm the daughter of a druggie whore, and everyone knows it.

I try to live a detached dream life. It's not very hard for a girl like me, so inclined to drift and be vague and get lost in half-formed thoughts and pretty words I make up, but it still hurts when I hear the things they say about me.

They just don't understand. No one does.

I'm lost in a sea of uncaring hearts and misconception.

* * *

"Smoke with me, baby girl," Mama says, reaching out for me as I pass. Her fingers are shaky, and she's blanketed in white smoke.

I sit down next to her and pull a cigarette from her pack. I light it carefully and pull in a deep lungful of burning, killing smoke. I make smoke rings when I exhale, watching them quiver and disappear.

"How's school?" Mama asks me tiredly, pulling her fingers through my dark, dark curls.

"Miserable."

She smiles, resting her head back against the couch. She curls her thin, sun-tanned legs up to her bony chest and stares up at me with dazed eyes. "You never did like school."

I blow more smoke rings, and my eyes fall to Jesus—the picture of him Grandma had hanging, the one Mom never bothered taking down after Grandma died and Mom moved in.

I pray to this picture every night.

"I think James is cheating on me, Bells." Mom's voice is crackly and teary all of a sudden, the drugs making her moods shift with the wind.

I don't say anything. I just keep staring at Jesus.

"Does he leave the house when I go out? Does he have women over?" Mom inquires quickly, her fingers now tugging at my hair, desperate for answers.

"No," I say with a cloud of smoke.

Mom rubs her fingers against her lips and puts out her cigarette. "He's been acting different. We don't even have sex anymore."

My stomach lurches.

_He tried to kiss me_ is right on my tongue, but I can't get it out.

"I just don't know what to think." Mama sits up and grabs her purse. She finds a baggy and pours a white-powdered line on our coffee table. With a rolled up bill, she snorts her life away.

I watch with dull interest as I continue my less dangerous addiction.

"I'm worried," she tells me, straightening. Lost eyes find mine. She looks teary again, panicked. "What if he leaves like your daddy?"

_I wish he would._

But that would just make Mama angry.

She's terrifying when she's angry and high.

"I think I love him," she says, putting her shameful habit back into her purse. She stands up and paces because she can't be still. She fixes herself a glass of tea and grinds her teeth. "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me, Bells. I can't lose him."

I feel sick.

"What do you think, Bella? What do you think I should do?" Mama demands, getting irritable with my lack of response. "Or are you going to sit there all night, doing nothing?"

I put my cigarette out.

I finally say, "He tried to kiss me."

Mama doesn't even hear. She doesn't want to.

* * *

**Let me know what you think! (:**

**oxoxoxoxo**


	2. Ultraviolence

**Because I completely suck, I forgot to thank VampiresHaveLaws for being so amazing and being my beta AGAIN. And I wanted to thank TLS, as well, for doing me the honor of having this story previewed on their wonderful blog. What would I do without y'all?**

**This chapter comes with major warnings: violence and attempted sexual ****assault. I really don't want to upset anyone, so please take these warnings to heart. If you'd like, you can skip this chapter and come back in Chapter 3. I'll make a note of what you missed so you don't have to read the details.**

**Also, as for the updating schedule, I'll try to be posting every other day. I might get off track next week, however, as it's my first week at college. So I'll probably be stressed/homesick/hyperventilating into a brown paper bag. I might not update for a while during that adjustment period. But I'll still try (:**

* * *

**2. Ultraviolence**

Tonight is the night everything changes.

I can feel it as soon as Mama leaves.

I can see it in his eyes.

I'm scared, so I go to my room.

* * *

I touch the gun with curious fingers.

I think of taking the safety off like Sam showed me. I think of putting it to my temple and shooting one of the tiny bullets straight through my brain.

I'd be free.

It's all I've really ever wanted.

But I don't do it.

* * *

I wait until the sounds from the living room fade, until I know James is drunk to the point of unconsciousness. It's then that I emerge from my room in search of food.

I tiptoe past his intoxicated, slumped body. I tiptoe past the flashing, muted TV, and go into our kitchen. Slowly, so I make no sound, I open the refrigerator door and bend down to peep inside the shelves.

Mama forgot to buy groceries, or maybe she just spent the money on her one true love. I'm not sure, but there's certainly nothing to eat.

I sigh and decide to go without. I haven't eaten in a while, but I know from past experience that I can go a little while longer before I get sick.

But before I can even stand straight and shut the door, there's a hand in my hair.

Rough fingers jerk me back, and I'm slammed up against James' body. Drunken words slur into my ear. "Where've you been all night, little girl?"

"My room," I whisper with shaky lips.

James wraps one arm around my chest and shoulders. The other goes around my stomach; there is no space between my back and his front. He holds too tight. "I hate when you go to your room."

"Let go," I say.

But he doesn't. He just kisses my neck.

His intoxication always makes him bold, but never this much. Never like this.

It horrifies me into making a mistake, into fighting back.

It isn't much, but I jerk forward, trying to break free of his hold. It isn't much, but it's enough, and he's grabbing my arms, making me spin with force.

I'm bent over the kitchen table before I can blink.

He drops me down into it hard, his hand tight and unrelenting against the back of my neck. His other falls against my hip, fingers digging hard into my flesh. He presses sick-wrong desire against my bottom, and I start crying.

"Let go!"

I scream because I'm panicked, desperate.

I will plead and holler, even though I already know it will do no good. I will cry, even though I know he likes it.

"Don't be difficult, pretty girl," James growls. He has a fistful of my curls and slams my forehead against the tabletop, hard enough for my vision to blur with tears and pain. "Be a good girl."

I kick. I claw. I cry.

But he's so much stronger, and the knowledge that I am utterly useless against him sets in.

I've never felt so pathetic before in my life.

"Stop squirming," he demands while he pulls down my sleep shorts. I hear his zipper go down next.

I keep fighting because I can't do anything else.

My sobs are deep, sickening hiccups.

"Shut up," he shouts, using my hair again, ramming my forehead into metal.

I collapse my knees when I feel him trying to pull my panties down. It delays him for a moment while I try to gather scattered, panicked thoughts.

All I can do is look up, and there, all the way on the other side of the trailer almost, is the picture of Jesus.

I'm too ashamed to look into his painted eyes so I close mine.

James finally gets my panties down.

I hear him rustle around behind me.

I want to die.

And then there's a knock on the door, like a miracle.

James freezes. It takes his drunken brain a moment to understand, and then there's a voice shouting, "Hey, asshole! I know you're in there. I need to talk to you!"

He lets me go, but not before he whispers, "Go to your room and shut up. I'll fucking kill you if you don't."

I pull up my panties and shorts with shaky hands and embarrassed movement, and then I disappear while James laughs and talks with his friend in the same kitchen he almost stole everything from me in.

* * *

I pick up the gun. I take the safety off.

I put it against my head and start to do it—really, really do it. Because I'll die now before he can touch me again.

But then a beautiful epiphany occurs to me.

So I stop.

* * *

James is lounged on the couch, drunk and now high after his friend's departure. The living room smells like weed and Jim Bean.

He isn't unconscious, not yet, which is good. Because I want him to be awake.

James lifts low-lidded eyes up to me and grins. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away."

My index finger tap, tap, taps against the cool steel of the gun. It's in my hand, hanging loosely by my side.

James sees it and laughs.

So I raise it up and shoot him.

It's not slow motion like in the movies. It's quick and violent, and his life is over with the bright blood that splatters from the back of his head. He dips forward before I can really see the bullet wound in his smug face. But the crimson shattered across the walls is all I need to know he's gone.

I drop my arm but not the gun.

My heart pounds, but there's no regret.

Just relief.

I feel tears in my eyes, but I don't cry. I won't cry for him, even if they are tears of joy.

* * *

**Edward makes an appearance next chapter ;)**

**Also, I want to get to know people a little more, so... if you WANT, name your favorite Lana Del Rey song. If you don't like Lana (GASP), just name your favorite song ;) **


	3. Hit and Run

**Hope everyone's having a good weekend! ;) **

**If you skipped last chapter because of the details, this is what happened: James attempted to rape Bella and she wound up shooting him. :(**

**I wanted to quickly say that I'll be updating every day until Wednesday. I wanted to do that since updating will probably get so spotty after then. Thanks for all the well wishes at college! :) I'll need prayers because I'm gonna be a sobbing ugly mess. **

**Also, I lied. Edward's not in this chapter. I had a momentary lapse of sanity. It's NEXT chapter. Promise. ;)**

* * *

**3. Hit And Run**

"Jesus Christ," Sam whispers, staring at James' dead body with grim eyes.

"He tried to rape me," I say.

"They'll never believe you," Sam says back, his voice hollow and hopelessly disappointed with the state of our world.

"What should I do?"

"Run."

* * *

Sam and I stand by the buses.

It's midnight, and the air is frigid in the desert. We breathe out silver clouds and I shiver.

"Take this," he says, handing me a roll of money that was earned doing illegal things, but not _real bad_ things because Sam's too good.

"I can't," I reply, shaking my head.

"Just fucking take it," he insists, closing my hand between his two big ones. He looks down at me with his brow pinched and his eyes heavy. "I'll make sure your mom knows the truth."

"She won't care," I say.

Sam doesn't assure me otherwise because he knows. He just says, "Take care."

I nod and start for the bus. But before I climb aboard, I ask, "Do you think I'll go to hell for it?"

Sam sighs. "I don't know, Bella. I don't know."

* * *

The buses take me all the way to Nevada.

I'm high on the thought that I can go farther, that I could just keep going and never stop.

But I do stop because it's beautiful here, and I want to see more.

I'm close to Las Vegas, but I'm in a suburb. The town is quiet, surrounded by beige desert and sunset-streaked sky. The buildings are fifties and sixties cool with a twist of southwestern flair, and this is the best place I've ever been. I'm sure of it.

I go inside an air-conditioned ice cream shop, and I count my money.

I have two hundred dollars to my name.

It's not a lot and it won't last long, especially after a few nights at a hotel. So I drift over to the girl working the counter and I ask her where the cheapest motel is. She gives me directions. But when I ask about work, she says she doesn't know of any jobs available around town.

So I head towards the motel as the sky grows dark and thousands of stars wink hope at me. I see my breath puff out in sparkling clouds, and I smile a little as I walk, with my one bag of personal belongings bumping against my hip.

* * *

The Sunset Motel is a 1950s classic: run-down and once glamorous. It's two levels, with white stucco and a neon, flashy sign. There's even a pool. And right below the scrawling red script on the sign is the lit-up word that means so much: vacancy.

I go inside the barely-cool office with the buzzing fluorescent lights.

An old lady with orange-dyed puffs of hair stands behind the counter, her cat-eye glasses sitting low on her nose as she does a crossword.

"Hi," I say softly.

The woman looks up and sighs. "What can I do for you?" she asks, boredom lacing her tone.

"I'd like a room please," I murmur.

"Just for one night?"

I nod.

She takes her glasses off and lets them dangle by the bejeweled cord around her neck. She leans closer to me, eyeing my one bag, and she smells like musty roses and stale coffee. "That's all you got?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The woman huffs but turns around to grab me one of the little keys. "Room 208. That'll be fifty dollars."

I dig out the money, mourning its loss as I hand it over to a chubby, grabby hand.

"Thank ya," the woman says and then taps the thick book resting on the counter. "Sign the register."

My hand trembles a little as I grab the pen. Taking my time, I write my first name because I'll have to keep it—I won't be able to train myself to respond to anything else.

_Bella_.

But I need a new last name.

Carefully, I take a look around the office, hoping for an idea. I can feel the old woman's beady-suspicious eyes honing in on me, and I have to be quick.

There, on the counter, is a tiny papier-mâché bird.

So I smile at the old lady and finish writing my new name.

_Bella Swan._

* * *

**I know Bella probably could have stayed and called the cops, but 1. There are a lot of cases of cops not believing rape victims, especially if it was just attempted rape and there aren't many bruises. 2. There would have been no more story :P**

**I loved hearing about favorite songs. I realize Lana isn't everyone's cup of tea. She's actually the only artist right now that I like enough to pre-order albums for. My favorite time period for music is the fifties or forties. Sixties and seventies are good, too, though. Which leads me to, if you had to pick a decade, which one would you live in?**

**ANYWAY, for those who asked, my favorite Lana song is probably "Video Games." But I mean, I love all of them. oxoxox**


	4. Blue Jeans

**Again. I so appreciate the well wishes for college. I hope everyone had a great weekend. I think a little while later I'll post Chapter 5, so stay tuned. :)**

* * *

**4. Blue Jeans**

My room is outdated with a hard bed and faded wallpaper from the seventies. The blankets are scratchy and the shag carpet is the color of mustard.

It's the most hideous room.

But it's mine and it's safe, so I love it.

* * *

I can't sleep, so I go outside.

I sit down and stick my legs through the gaps in the second-level railing. I stare down at the bright blue pool and wish desperately for a cigarette as I play with the ends of my hair.

Fatigue has yet to catch up with me, just like fear. I'm not afraid yet, but I'm sure I will be. When the money runs low, along with my options, I don't know what I'll do. But tonight, I don't think about those things. Tonight, I revel in my small freedoms and my new name.

Tonight, I'm content just to be relieved.

* * *

A boy who's more of a man walks into the motel courtyard. He comes in slow and shuffling.

It's the way he walks—that's what I notice first.

He's all lanky, strong limbs and quiet confidence. His arms swing loosely by his sides and his gait lilts in such a nice way. I can't help but pay attention to him.

His hair is in a disarray of dark, messy curls. He's got a face like an angel: a square jaw and pretty-pouty lips and big eyes that seem to be the color of light brown caramels.

He shoves his hands in his pockets of his blue jeans and glances up at me where I still sit, legs dangling high in the air. He jerks his chin up in acknowledgment and offers a small half-smile that lingers in his eyes.

I smile back and can't help but stare at him. There's a dark gentleness about him that's too beautiful to ignore.

He disappears beneath me, though, into his own room. I hear the door shut loudly.

* * *

"Do you know if there are any jobs around here?" I ask the red-haired woman who smells of stale roses. I find out her name is Mrs. Cope and that she loves cats.

She's wearing a cat sweater and even has a cat calendar hanging on the wall in the office.

"I need a maid. My last one quit." Mrs. Cope grunts, narrowing her eyes at me. "You planning on staying around?"

I nod.

"Well, the job's open. Rose will have to teach you the ropes. The pay isn't great, so don't get your hopes up. But, as far as I know, there aren't any other jobs available around here. So you take what you can get."

I open my mouth to ask her more, but the office bell chimes, fighting over the whirring sound of the old window air unit to be heard.

"Morning, Mrs. Cope."

The voice is deep, stuffy, and beautiful.

I turn to find whom it belongs to, but a part of me already knows.

The man from last night is walking in, wearing a small smile with dimples. He's dressed in a tan work shirt and boots. The shirt has his name stitched in it: Edward.

Mrs. Cope grunts at him. "Rent?"

"Yes, ma'am." Edward digs in his back pocket for an old leather wallet and pulls out a crumpled check. He hands it over, and Mrs. Cope snaps it up with short, fat fingers.

"Thank you," she mumbles.

"It's my pleasure." He winks at her, all old, slow-moving charm, and then his eyes slip effortlessly to me. He smiles again, and it makes his eyes dance. "Good morning."

"Morning," I say and smile back, warmth creeping up my cheeks.

"I'll see you next month, Mrs. Cope."

"Edward," she replies.

Edward's eyes find mine again as he's leaving and he drops me a playful wink before disappearing out the door.

"He lives here?" I ask as soon as he's gone.

Mrs. Cope nods as she eyes his check with mistrust. "I let him, against my better judgment. Never trust anyone who can talk a bird out of its nest."

"So you let some people live here?" I ask, hope lacing my voice.

Mrs. Cope catches my tone and meets my eyes with hers. She looks doubtful. "_Some_ people. You have to prove to me you're trustworthy."

"How do I do that?" I ask.

The old woman taps her long, hardened fingernails lightly against the desk, pursing her wrinkled lips in thought. "Just work here long enough and don't do anything stupid."

"Do you… won't you need a résumé or something?" My heart starts fluttering a nervous beat within my chest.

Mrs. Cope snorts. "Look at this place, honey! This is where you go to get lost, not found. I don't ask for personal information if it's not offered. You do a job for me, I let you stay—if you pay rent, of course. I don't need anything else. Just someone to scrub shit off a toilet."

She's crass and rude, but I've only ever lived with crass and rude, so it's no surprise. Even with ugly words, her meaning makes my heart soar.

So I smile and tell her thank you.

And I float outside, to find Rose, to learn how to scrub shit off a toilet.

* * *

**An Edward sighting ;) And no, to all those who worried, he isn't one of the big old biker guys from the Ride video. Y'all crack me up.**

**oxoxoxoxo**


	5. Queen of the Gas Station

**Hi, everyone! Here's the next chapter, as promised! Might not get one posted tomorrow, will be super busy because I kind of haven't packed yet. Whoops.**

**Sorry about the alerts/confusion about last chapter. I called it Black Beauty when it was supposed to be Blue Jeans, and I spent the next twenty minutes doing everything wrong to fix it. Sigh. Sorry again.**

* * *

**5. Queen of the Gas Station**

Rosalie Hale is a beautiful wreck. Her face is stunning, but caked in trailer-trash makeup. Her hair is golden and curly, but heat damaged and frizzed on the ends.

She's nineteen, five months pregnant, and crouched down on the bathroom floor of a ratty motel room, teaching a sixteen-year-old how to clean.

"You have to put effort into it," she mutters, shaking her head as she fiercely scrubs at the tiles. "You can't clean it if you aren't going to put some muscle into it. Try again."

I go at the job harder, trying to peel up what seems to be a year's worth of hairspray residue. It's like glue and my arms ache.

"That's better," Rose murmurs, and somehow manages to pull herself up on her feet. Her maids' apron is stretched tight over the bulging stomach she holds so carefully. "Get this job in here finished. I'll start vacuuming in the other room."

And with that, she's gone.

She hasn't spoken much to me except to snap orders. She's angry, from the inside out, but her eyes are sad beneath the mistrust and annoyance. She's hurt more than anything. I can see it as plain as day.

But I don't say anything about it.

I just keep cleaning the hairspray.

* * *

"Do you live here, too?" I ask Rose when we're in the next room, which is even filthier than the last.

Rose is pulling on rubber gloves to go at the clogged up shower drain. "Yeah, unfortunately." She sits carefully on the edge of the tub and reaches in for the wad of hair that's stopped everything up. "My boyfriend's a goddamned lazy idiot, that's why."

"Oh," I say softly.

Rose's blue eyes grudgingly flicker up to me as she digs in the drain. "Why are you living in this shit heap, anyway? Aren't you still in high school?"

"No, I'm eighteen," I reply, the lie bitter on my tongue.

Rose snorts. Rolls her eyes. Curses under her breath when the blockage won't budge. "Yeah, sure you are."

I don't try talking to her anymore after that, not if she's going to ask questions I have to lie to answer.

I've already got enough strikes against me.

I don't want to be bad. I really don't.

* * *

"All right. We're done for the day," Rose announces, blowing scraggly strands of hair out of her face as we roll the cleaning cart back into the janitorial closet.

"What about that room? We didn't clean it." I point to 108, the room right under mine.

"That's Edward's. We don't clean it." Rose rolls her eyes as she slams the closet door shut and locks it. "He's got some weird thing about people being in his room."

I frown. "Why?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't usually talk to him. Only way I know is through Emmett—that's my boyfriend." Rose rests her hands on her hips tiredly, squinting at Edward's room through the hot Nevada sun. "Emmett doesn't know a stranger. Anyway, him and Edward are friends and all, but Edward never lets Em into his room or anything. Freak."

I follow Rose as she starts shuffling away, around the edge of the pool that's a little more green than I remember it being.

"Maybe he's shy," I say.

Rose laughs for the first time, although it's a short, bitter bark. "Shy! For fuck's sake, have you _seen_ him?"

I nod slowly.

"He's fucking hot, right?"

I nod again in allowance.

"Well, trust me, those good looks ain't all he has up his sleeve. He's a sweet talker, and a man whore. I'd stay away from him if I were you. Or you'll end up like me." Rose motions vaguely to her stomach.

"Is being pregnant all that bad, though?" I ask lightly, a little horrified by her black tone.

"It is when you don't want to be," Rose says, her voice the closest to soft I've heard all day.

* * *

I sit outside by the pool, but I don't dare stick a foot in.

The water is _really_ green.

My mind drifts back to innocent days when I didn't have enough sense to be sad. I remember playing in the tiny pool with Grandma. She always kept it clean. The water was never once green. She was the lady who had little but took care of what she did have.

She was the one I loved; the one I really loved.

Slowly, my fingers lift and I play with my necklace. It's simple, thin, rose-gold, and it has a teeny-tiny precious cross charm. It's all I have to remember her by, but it's all I need, too.

* * *

**I forgot to ask a question last chapter. I love hearing people's answers! (: Let's see... what's your favorite novel? Mine's "The Catcher in the Rye." **

**oxoxoxo**


	6. Meet Me in the Pale Moonlight

**Hi! (: Sorry it's been so long! At college now. Stressed and homesick. Hoping things get better. Tomorrow's my first day of classes, so we shall see ;)**

**Here's the next chapter. Sorry I've gotten off schedule. I'll try to get back to every other day posting, but I still might get off during these first few weeks of adjusting. **

**Enjoy! (:**

* * *

**6. Meet Me In the Pale Moonlight**

I'm still sitting by the pool when night falls.

My mind gets away from me sometimes, and I lose track of time.

Mama said I was a vague kind of girl, always somewhere else, in some other world.

I guess it's true.

In my head, I'm always in a prettier world.

* * *

Edward walks by at exactly three o'clock in the morning.

He's walking with that slow shuffle I think I love, and tonight, he pauses when he sees me.

He sits down next to me.

His smell is oil and car parts and the faint scent of the Old Spice he put on this morning. He pulls out a pack of smokes, and I nearly die.

"Want one?" he asks, smiling around the dangling, unlit cigarette between his lips.

He must have seen me eyeing them with addicted want.

I nod. "Thank you."

"No problem." He digs in his pocket for a lighter, lights his, and then mine.

"I've been dreaming of these," I whisper quietly, my words becoming smoke that drifts up into a clear Nevada sky.

Edward exhales a soft laugh and a cloud of gray. "So. Are you moving in or just passing through?"

"Both."

He laughs again. When he does it, I notice the skin around his sparkling eyes crinkles and his dimples appear. He's kind of beautiful, being a boy and all. "Well, that's an interesting answer."

I cut my eyes to him and give him a little smile that's almost shy.

"How old are you?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at me. "You sure as hell don't look old enough to be on your own."

"I'm old enough." It's all I know to say that isn't a lie.

Edward laughs once more, and it's a nice, quiet sound. "That young, huh?" He shakes his head a little and looks up at the sky. He's leaning forward, resting his elbows on his bent open knees; he's bathed in the moon's glow.

"Where do you work?" I ask, noticing all the oil on his work shirt.

"Car garage. Down the road." He tilts his head vaguely in the right direction but he never looks away from the sky. There's longing in his gaze, longing that's achingly familiar to me and different at the same time.

He's got old, sad eyes.

"Every man I've ever known who works at a car garage has a golden heart," I murmur.

This makes him turn his gaze back to me. I see now that his big eyes are hazel and absolutely fascinating. He stares for a moment, and then smirks. It makes his dimples appear again, and it makes one eye squint, almost like he's winking. He flicks his cigarette and stands up, shrugging. "Well, maybe you've just met the exception." He winks good-naturedly and starts for his room. "Night, mystery girl."

"Goodnight," I call back softly.

His words were light, but the meaning was heartfelt.

He hates himself.

It's a feeling I can relate to.

* * *

"Edward doesn't seem so weird," I say to Rose the next day as we dust.

"I told you. He's a sweet-talker. He's not gonna seem weird at first." Rose sighs heavily. "What's he doing? Hitting on you? Jesus. You're a baby."

I'm three years younger than Rose, but I don't argue. Because years don't mean anything next to experience. And she's thousands of years older than me in experience. I can see it in the weight she carries on her shoulders, in the aching in her eyes.

"He wasn't hitting on me," I say, so thankful he didn't, because then all the good things about him—his walk and his squinted-eye smile—would be worthless to me. He'd have made my skin crawl. "He was just being polite," I add.

"Good." Rose puts a worn-out, old Bible back into the bedside table drawer. "Because he's too old for you."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-six. And if you ask me another question about him, I'm going to lose what little respect I have for you because I'll know you're in love with him like half the rest of this goddamned town."

"I don't love him," I reply quietly. "I was just curious."

* * *

I sit out the next night waiting for him.

Not for him so much as the cigarettes.

It makes me feel kinda bad, but I'm already low on money and can't afford any.

He doesn't show up until four in the morning. His hair is ruffled and his clothes are wrinkled. But he doesn't seem tired, or any more tired than usual.

He sits down beside me, just like the night before.

"Cigarette?" he asks.

I nod with a small smile.

He gives a half-grin and a smoke to me.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, honey." The way he says it is all kindness and warmth. It doesn't make my stomach tighten and turn, and it doesn't make my skin shiver.

It just makes me like him a little more.

"There's lipstick on your neck," I say.

Edward quickly wipes at it, but it's still there. "Thanks." He winks at me.

I smile back because he makes a thank you feel like it means something. "You're welcome." I watch him smoke his own cigarette for a moment and I tilt my head. "Rose told me half the town's in love with you."

Edward's eyebrows go up meekly, but his smile is halfway devilish. "Is that so? Well, Rose certainly doesn't fall into that category. Nor does Mrs. Cope, unfortunately." He pauses for a second and then looks over at me with playful drama. "Are _you_ in love with me?"

"I haven't quite decided yet."

Edward grins. It makes his left eye squint again. "I see I'll have to win you over, then."

I smile because he's just being silly. This is harmless, and I can sense it. It's sweet fun, not repulsive wrongness. "I'm hard to persuade."

"Well, I _have_ given you two cigarettes now. And I have the sneaking suspicion you waited tonight just to get one. That should earn me something."

"I'm just a night owl, is all."

"Right." Edward rolls his eyes away from me, to the green pool. "What's your name, then, night owl?"

"Bella."

"I'm Edward."

I extend my hand to him, and he smiles at first before throwing on an over-exaggerated air of sophistication to shake it. "Nice to meet you," I say.

Edward's cigarette shifts between his lips when he smiles. "Same."

And that's all we say until goodnight.

* * *

**A little bit more of Edward in this chapter. ;)**

**I hope everyone has a good week!**

**As for a question... hmmmmm. What's your favorite genre of literature? Or what kind of themes do you usually gravitate towards?**

**oxoxoxo**

**P.S. Sorry if I don't respond to reviews! Like I say, I'm stressed and super busy. I know that's a lame excuse, and I feel terrible because y'all take the time to write me. But just know I look over every review and take them to heart! Thanks! (:**


	7. The Other Woman

**Sorry it's been so long! I'm really struggling with readjusting my schedule, but I'm trying to do better (:**

* * *

**7. The Other Woman**

"There's the whore," Rose comments one morning as we walk from one room to the next.

I glance over, squinting against bright sunlight.

A small girl with long, silky-straight black hair and platform shoes walks up with a man in a suit. Her arm is looped with his, and she's smiling gently. But like everyone else around here, her eyes are filled with heartbreak.

The man is shifty, glancing around and tapping his fingers quickly against the BlackBerry he has in his hand.

I watch as the odd couple find a room and disappear inside.

"The man's the whore or the girl?" I ask Rose.

"Both," she replies simply. "But only one of them is a prostitute. And it ain't the man wearing a thousand dollar suit."

"Oh."

Rose nods and knocks on the next door. "Housekeeping!" she calls.

"Do you know her?" I ask.

Rose glares over at me sharply. "Do I look like the type to be on a first-name basis with a whore?"

"I was just asking," I say blandly, before looking back at the closed door the girl and suit-wearing man disappeared behind.

"He's married, you know," Rose adds, unlocking the room door. "That's why he comes all the way out here, so no one recognizes him. Fucking pervert. I hope his dick rots off."

My stomach kind of roils in disgust, not necessarily at what Rose has said, because I've heard worse. It's just the thought of him having sex in this ratty motel, on a brick-hard bed with a girl who makes her living sleeping with other men just like him. And maybe his wife is at home, waiting for him with hopeful eyes and a dread-filled stomach. Maybe kids, too.

I don't understand it. I don't understand what's so much better about this sex than the kind he could get at home, from his wife.

I don't understand men.

Maybe I don't want to.

* * *

Tonight, when Edward comes around, I don't say much.

He gives me a cigarette and tries to cut up with me a little, but I'm in no mood.

He's got ruffled hair and wrinkled clothes and lipstick stains again.

Tonight, he does kind of make my stomach sour.

* * *

The Whore, as Rose deems her, comes every week with the same man on a Tuesday. They arrive at noon and leave at three, and Rose and I have to go in and clean the room right after.

I beg her not to make me change the sheets, so Rose does it herself, rolling her eyes at me, but she doesn't ask why. She never does, so I'm grateful.

* * *

The girl's name is Alice, I learn from Rose, who _is_ actually on a first-name basis with her.

Rose says Edward is friends with her, which I think probably means Edward uses her services, too. But I don't have the heart to ask Rose. I like him too much. I don't want to think any less of him by knowing he's skeevy that way.

* * *

It's been three weeks.

I've already got my first paycheck, and I float to heaven.

I really do.

* * *

I see Alice for the third time.

But today, when they go into the motel room, the man storms out only a second later.

I see all this because I'm outside, dumping the trash for Rose because it's too heavy for her. It's too heavy for me, too, but somehow, I manage.

Alice comes outside with no shoes on and her mascara running. She's crying, and she really does look hurt.

I feel a little sorry for her so I ask her if she's okay. It's the least I can do because I know no one else will do it. And I know how it feels just to want someone to care, even if it's just for a second.

Her tear-filled eyes find mine. Up close, I see she has a few freckles on the bridge of her nose. She's striking, all delicate features and beauty-queen eyes. "He was my ride home," is all she says.

"I'm sure Mrs. Cope could call a cab," I reply gently.

Alice shakes her head, and her lost eyes wander. "Does… which room is Edward's?"

"That one." I point. "But he's at work, I think."

Alice breaks down again and starts sobbing. She cries like a little child would, with her arms hanging limply by her sides.

I pat her arm because that's what Grandma always did with me.

Alice twists until she's holding my hand tightly. Her fingers are clammy and cold, and she's really squeezing. "I'm sorry," she sobs fiercely.

I don't know what to say so I don't say anything at all.

"I'm just…" Alice blinks at me, more tears spilling over freckled cheeks and a surprisingly young face. She whispers in a musical, soft-sweet voice, "I'm just tired of being the other woman."

* * *

**Thanks for sticking with the weird/infrequent updates! I'll get this college thing figured out eventually ;) oxoxoxoxo**

**Enjoy your week! **


	8. Radio

**Hi, everyone! Thanks for putting up with me so far! Hopefully, I'll be back to a semi-regular updating schedule. Actually, I think I'm going to shoot for two updates a week. I know I was trying to do an every other day thing, but I highly doubt I'll be able to swing that. So maybe an Update every Monday and everything Thursday? Maybe. Let me know what y'all think.**

* * *

**8. Radio**

I can buy my own cigarettes now. I walk to the nearest convenience store and buy a pack. They don't even ID me.

I guess this town really is a place to get lost.

But I already feel at home.

* * *

I've met Emmett twice throughout the first two weeks I've worked here. He's tall and muscular and always smiling, even when Rose isn't. But he's always going somewhere else when Rose and I run into him. So I hardly know anything about him.

Until tonight.

I'm leaning against my door, smoking one of my very own cigarettes, when I hear them.

"I don't know what to do, man," Emmett says.

"You need to fucking man up, is what you need to do." Edward's tone is hard, no nonsense. I've never heard it like that before.

"I know," Emmett moans. "I know I'm a fuck-up."

"Then why do you keep doing it?" Edward demands, his voice low but tense. Then I hear him sigh. "Never mind. I'll try to get a job for you at the garage. Just don't fucking blow it, because I'm the one who'll be sticking my neck out for you."

"Dude—"

"Shut up," Edward cuts in. "Listen to me. You can't fuck around with Marcus, all right? You just can't. You know who he is."

"I know, man, I know. I swear to God. I'll do right. I promise. Promise."

"Don't promise. Just show me."

"I owe you, I fucking owe you—" Emmett rushes, all relief.

"Yeah, you do." Edward's tone has softened ever so slightly. "Get home, dumbass. Your girl is probably waiting for you."

"Yeah, ready to kill me, I'm sure." Emmett chuckles. I hear the scuff of his shoes before he pauses. "Seriously, Edward. Thank you. With the baby coming and everything—"

"It's no big deal," Edward says quickly.

"It is, though. I really don't know what I'm fucking doing."

"Well, you're going to have to learn. And within the next few months."

Emmett just sighs. "I know."

* * *

The next morning is a Saturday, and after Rose and I finish cleaning, I retreat to my room.

I don't do anything. I have no interest in TV, so I just try to rest in the quiet safety of my very own room.

My sleep has been light and sporadic, though.

My dreams are haunted.

Sometimes I think, even though James is dead, he's still trying to hurt me. Because my dreams have always been my paradise. And now, he's taken even that from me.

* * *

Music and laughter wakes me from a dark dream.

I blink and sit up, surprised at the unusual sounds.

Quietly, I tiptoe over to the window and peel back the vinyl curtains. Below, around the pool, Edward, Rose and Emmett—and a few others I don't recognize—lounge around. They sit and smile and talk in the last dying rays of the desert sun; they're all bathed in pink-gold light.

I debate on whether or not to go down. And then when I look in the mini-fridge and see I'm out of Cokes, I decide I have to go anyway.

* * *

The vending machines are on the other side of the motel, so I have to walk right past everyone.

And as I do, Edward calls out.

"Hey, mystery kid. Why don't you come sit with us for a while?"

I pause and glance over to him.

He's leaning forward in a plastic, half-broken pool chair. His elbows rest on his knees and his hair falls into his smile-sparkling eyes. There's a beer bottle dangling between his careless fingertips.

He's smirking.

"There's nowhere to sit," I reply, shrugging. And it's true. There are only five pool chairs that can safely hold a full-grown body, and all five are taken.

Edward scoots over and pats the small spot he's made. "You can sit with me."

I warm all over and drift towards him slowly. "Okay," I say, very softly.

There's barely enough room for us, but Edward tries his best not to crowd me. We're close, though, and I smell Old Spice and cigarettes on him.

"You know Rose and Em, of course," Edward says nodding to them.

Rose is lying on one of the better pool chairs with her eyes closed and her arms and legs tanning in the dying light. Emmett sits next to her, a few empty beer bottles by his feet and a drunken flush to his cheeks.

"That's Jasper," Edward adds, pointing to a miserable looking blond man. "And that's Seth." He motions towards a slim, stretched-out boy with shaggy black hair and an excitable face. "They work at the shop with me," Edward informs.

"Hey!" Seth waves.

"Hi," I respond, smiling.

"This is Bella," Edward says.

"Nice to meet you. Want a beer?" Seth asks, holding one out to me.

"She's underage," Rose pipes up quickly.

"So are we," Emmett says with a laugh.

"_I'm_ not drinking." Rose points to her stomach and glares over at Emmett.

He pretends not to notice her hostility, and through it all, Jasper has fallen asleep sitting straight up, his chin resting on his chest.

"I'm good. Thanks," I say to Seth.

Seth shrugs. "Suit yourself."

As the conversation swells around a new topic, I feel Edward looking at me. I peep over to meet his curious hazel eyes.

"What?" I ask.

"You don't drink." It's more of a statement than a question and there's something like satisfaction in his eyes.

"No. Is that okay?" I tease softly.

Edward's eyes squint and dance. He exhales a quiet-low laugh and looks away, shaking his head. "That's just fine, darlin'."

I glance back out at the small group of different people, all of them cast in the shadows of sunset, beer bottles at their feet, their laughter and words mingling with the Lynyrd Skynyrd playing on the radio. The motel light flickers on with a hiss and buzz, and I feel the last remains of sunlight warming the crown of my dark brown curls.

This moment isn't memorable. Nothing spectacular has happened. Nothing shocking or awe-inspiring or hilarious or silly.

This moment isn't memorable, but I _will_ remember it.

Because beauty is simplicity and safety.

And this simple moment is the first time I've felt safe in a very long time.

That's why I'll remember it.

* * *

**Has any hard core Lana fans noticed that every chapter title is a song title of hers? ;) I'm officially obsessed. Anyways, I hope everyone's doing well! AGAIN! Thanks for putting up with me! oxoxoxo**


	9. Afraid

**Hi, guys! Sorry I didn't make the update on Monday like I planned. Yesterday was just super-duper busy! Forgive me! Anyways, I'm getting in the swing of things more here, so I'm gonna start replying back to all the lovely reviews y'all have been leaving. I really appreciate all the kind words! Y'all are the best. oxoxo**

* * *

**9. Afraid**

In my dream, there is no knock at the door to save me. And in my dream, there's pain and humiliation that follows me, even when I wake up.

* * *

My mother had darkness in her from the start. Or so Grandma always said.

Grandma said Mama was born with a troubled soul and a restless spirit. She said Mama was always searching but never finding, and that she'd always be that way, until the day she died.

I stare in the mirror, seeing that darkness in my own eyes.

The lights are harsh fluorescents and flickering unsteadily, and my face looks pale yellow. My hair is a mess of tangles, and my heart still beats with panic-heavy thumps.

But the only thing I care about is my eyes.

I splash my face with water, but it doesn't help. It doesn't make the strange look in my gaze go away.

I lean closer to the mirror until my breath fogs it.

Maybe it's because I killed him, I think. Maybe that's why, for the first time in forever, I feel as though I favor Mama.

Maybe it's why I look so empty and lost, as she always did.

Or maybe it's just because she's my mother.

Maybe you can't outrun genetics. Maybe some people are just born bad.

* * *

My fingers tremble as I raise the cigarette to my lips.

It's raining lightly, so I stand beneath the little awning. The vending machines hum behind me, giving off unnatural warmth and light.

I stare at the green pool, watching as its glassy surface gets disrupted by the small storm.

I try to drift into pretty thoughts and beautiful images. I try to become detached from my body, as I've done before. I want nothing more than to just float away.

But every time I close my eyes, I see a drunken boyfriend with greasy hair and an even greasier smile. I see a druggie whore mother who maybe once could have been more but is now too lost to ever be found again. I see splattered blood and an uncertain future.

So I have to open my eyes and look up at the red neon motel sign instead.

"Bella?"

I tear my gaze away to look at Edward. He's rain-soaked and hardly seems to mind. With his hands in his pockets and his wet hair falling into his eyes, he approaches me slowly, coming to stand beneath the awning.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking me up and down, at my old pajama shorts and my bare feet.

I blow out a shaky breath, smoke whispering past my lips. "I don't know," I say.

He wipes water off his face, pushes his curling hair out of his eyes. "Aren't you cold?"

I am, but I only just now realize. I don't say anything, though. I just look at the pool and try my best to form words that will make sense. "Do you ever feel lost?"

"Only on days that end in Y," he replies lightly, but there is undeniable truth beneath his tone. Then his eyebrows pull together, his forehead creasing. There's concern etched on every inch of his pretty face, in the depths of his heartbreak eyes. "Don't you have any family? Parents or something?"

I think of Mama. I think of her love for white powder over her flesh and blood. I think of my father, of promised love and hope that was only crushed. I think of my too-young parents, who had already given away all their love to something else: drugs and sex and alcohol. They had no more to give me, the mistake.

But I don't say these things aloud. I never do, because I'm a quiet girl by nature, a watcher—that's what Grandma always said.

All I tell Edward is that I don't have anyone in the world.

* * *

**Next update on Thursday, for sure! Have a super fantabulous week! ;)**


	10. Black Beauty

**Yay! First time ever actually updating on the day I said I would! (: **

* * *

**10. Black Beauty**

She's a tight red dress and a purposeful walk.

She's blonde, pretty, slim. And she's at Edward's door, knocking and knocking and knocking.

Rose thinks it's so funny that she tells me we're taking a break to watch.

"Who is she?" I ask, watching the girl from the second level.

Rose leans against the railing carefully, cradling her swelling stomach. "Tanya. She's one of Edward's whores."

"His whores," I repeat numbly.

"His whores," Rose confirms, nodding. Her makeup-caked blue eyes slip over to me slyly. "I told you he was a pig. He's just one of the sneaky ones, the kind who's never once been hurtful to a woman's face, who's never once hit a woman or anything. His thing is just disappearing. That's what he does when he gets tired of them."

I stare down at Tanya, who's getting more desperate by the moment. "That's cruel," I say.

Rose shrugs, already growing bored with the show. She starts back for the room we've been cleaning. "All the girls in this town know who he is and what he does—except you, I guess—so it's their gamble if they want to sleep with him."

I don't say anything.

* * *

I somehow manage to toss the trash bag into the dumpster. It's too heavy for Rose, of course, with the baby. But it's twice my size, and it takes me a good fifteen minutes to finish the job.

I'm tired and achy by the time it's done, and I slowly shuffle around the motel, to the front, where Tanya sits on the curb smoking a cigarette.

"Hey," she says, popping to her feet as soon as I come into view. "Hey, do you know Edward? Edward Cullen? He lives in 108."

I hesitate.

Tanya's heavy makeup is running in the heat. The hot, dry breeze ruffles her beauty-queen-style curls and she pushes it away furiously. "Edward Cullen?" she repeats quietly. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah," I finally say.

"Is he home?"

"No, I don't think so. He's probably at work."

Tanya just laughs, a bitter, sharp sound. She puts her hands on her hips and looks out into the distance, where the town fades away sharply and unrelenting desert takes its place.

"He's an asshole," she murmurs with conviction. "I already checked his work, and I couldn't find him there, either."

I don't know what to say, so I just keep my mouth shut.

"God, I'm so stupid." Tanya laughs again, but now the sound is all self-loathing and pain. "I knew it would be like this, but I did it anyway."

"He might just be somewhere else," I offer.

Tanya shakes her head firmly. "No. No, this town is too small. There's nowhere else he'd be. He's just fucking hiding." She turns her eyes to me, and they're the kind of broken that makes you wonder how they got that way—how _she_ got that way.

She sort of reminds me of Mama: pretty and young but always loving the wrong things. It's a painful sort of heartbreak to think that her misplaced affections will take their toll, just like they did on my own mother. She'll waste away until there's only the shadow of a person left, and it's pure tragedy.

"I thought I could be the one to change him," Tanya tells me. "But that's what I always think, and I'm always wrong."

"I'm sorry," I say.

Tanya just sighs and shakes her head again. "It's just how life is," she replies and starts walking to her car. She doesn't look back.

* * *

"Your girlfriend came by today," I say to Edward as he walks by.

He pauses, glancing over at me with his eyebrows raised and an uncertain smile curling his mouth. "My girlfriend?"

I sit on the edge of the pool, my legs crossed Indian style and a cigarette in my hand. He towers above me, the endless night sky behind him.

"Tanya," I say.

Edward exhales and glances away from me. He shoves his hands into his pockets, pushing roughly at his jeans, making them ride low. "Oh."

I flick a little ash into an old plastic ashtray. "Rose called her your whore."

Edward kind of laughs, but the sound is a bit stiff. He drifts over and takes a seat beside me. "She's not my whore."

"Rose says you have lots of whores."

"Do you believe everything Rose says?" he asks without missing a beat. His eyes flicker over to mine curiously.

I shrug vaguely.

Edward lets out a sigh and stretches his long legs out as much as he can without them ending up in the pool. He rests his elbows on his bent knees and glances up to the sky, his breath silver-cloudy. "Rose doesn't like me very much."

"I've noticed."

He cracks a small grin at this.

But I don't find anything funny. "You hurt her."

His big eyes find mine again. "What?"

"Tanya. You hurt her real bad," I say softly, searching his gaze for something—remorse, maybe.

But he looks away before I can find anything. "I didn't mean to," he murmurs.

"It doesn't make a difference," I reply.

"I know."

There's a beat of silence, thick and awkward. He doesn't know what to say, I don't think, and I simply have nothing else _to_ say.

"I thought it was meaningless," he says quietly, his long fingers picking at a hole in his jeans—a real, worn hole, not the kind manufactured to be cool. "But I was wrong."

I feel my stomach turn.

I'm on my feet in a heartbeat and walking towards the steps.

"Wait." I hear him get up and follow after me, but I don't turn around. "Wait, Bella." And then his fingers close around my wrist.

The touch is gentle, but the memories are not.

I'm jerking away sharply before I know it, the movement too violent and panicked to be normal. I glance back at Edward fearfully, but he's standing still, his hand still halfway extended, a look of surprised confusion etched all over him.

"Don't touch me," I whisper shakily.

His face twists in apology but his eyes go dark with realization. "I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I don't like to be touched, is all," I say in response.

_He didn't mean it_, I tell myself and my scared, pounding heart. _He wasn't going to hurt you._

I can see he wasn't in his earnest, sad eyes.

"Okay," Edward says slowly, carefully. He makes a show of sticking his hands back in his pockets as he walks over to me gingerly. "I didn't know."

"I know," I reply quietly, embarrassment suddenly gripping me. I don't want him to know. I don't want anyone to know.

_I_ don't want to know.

I wish I could forget it.

But I can't.

_His_ disgusting touch and threatening voice are always there, eating at my ease. I feel ashamed and horrified by it, sickened.

"Look," Edward murmurs, his voice deep and smooth and beautiful, maybe even comforting. It draws me out of dark memories, memories of passing touches and sick whispers that make my stomach turn.

Edward's face is a thousand times different than the one I see behind my eyelids when I blink, so I try to keep my eyes open.

"Don't believe everything you hear," he says.

I stare up at him for a moment, my thoughts calming, lapsing back into vague, ever-present worry. "You should apologize to her," I finally say. "To Tanya. It's the right thing to do."

Edward sighs and nods. He chews on his bottom lip, looking away from me, his eyes a million miles away from here, in a different world or maybe just in a different life. Maybe just in the past.

But then he blinks and says, "I know." He finally meets my gaze with his, and I drown in the sorrowful depths of his eyes. "I've always known what the right thing to do is." He inhales and starts backing away. "I just have a bad habit of not doing it."

"The right thing?" I clarify.

But all he says is, "Goodnight, Bella."

* * *

**I'm just curious. What do y'all think Edward's deal is? How do you feel about him? Repulsed, neutral? Do you want Bella to kinda steer clear of him for now or try to change him or what? I'd just like to know y'all's thoughts. It's always fun to read! I've been noticing most of y'all feel a certain level of sympathy towards Bella, but how do y'all feel about the rest of the characters? Anyone you hate yet? Anyone you think you might like as the story progresses? I know there isn't a ton known about all the players yet, but have patience. ;) I'll see y'all Monday! Have a great weekend!(:**

**Oh! And for the guest reviewer named Sherrie, you always leave such sweet reviews so I thank you! And you also spell your name the same as my mom, which is great because it's a more uncommon spelling. Anyways, thank you and God bless you, too!**

**oxoxox**


	11. Carmen

**Those reviews were the best! I loved hearing everyone's thoughts! A few people were really close as to why Edward is the way he is, too! (; I can't wait until I can jump in and start responding to people. **

**Also, VampiresHaveLaws is amazing! Just saying. (:**

* * *

**11. Carmen**

"Shit!"

I run into the bathroom and see Rose struggling to pick up a fallen washcloth from the floor. So I do it for her.

She takes it without looking at me and mumbles a barely audible, "Thanks."

I don't say anything. I just leave her alone.

* * *

"I hate being pregnant," Rose tells me as we're walking to put the cleaning cart away.

I look over at her as she starts to unlock the janitorial closet.

"I really hate it," she says, still not looking at me.

"You won't be pregnant forever," I murmur, pushing the cart inside.

"I'll have a kid forever, though." Rose blows her jagged bangs out of her eyes. She rests her hands tiredly on her hips and squints away from me, into the sun. "I was going to get an abortion."

"Why didn't you?" I ask softly as I shut the closet door.

The air is the hottest it's been so far. We're in mid-July and the desert is stifling. The motel courtyard looks worse underneath the glare of day, beneath the unrelenting wave of heat. The weeds growing through the cracks in the concrete are wilted. The green pool looks as though it's about to boil. And when I look beyond the motel, out into the desert, the air is wavy and the horizon blurs.

"I don't know," Rose finally answers me. She leans back against the wall, fanning herself. "And I don't even know why I'm telling you this. You act like you're not even in this world half the time."

"Maybe I'm not," I say.

Rose snorts and barely cracks a smile. "Freak."

I smile back and lean against the wall, too, staring up at Rose as she looks down at her bulging stomach. Her hands move in slow circles over her belly and she frowns.

"They said I was a slut," she whispers.

"Who?"

"The people in my town." Rose sighs and tilts her head back, shutting her eyes against the blaze of sun. "When I got pregnant, they said all kinds of things. Even my dad."

I think back to whispered words and not-so-sneaky glances.

I think back to overhearing girls talk about me in the bathroom. I think back to getting winks from men twice my age and getting called names.

I was the daughter of a whore, so I must be one, too.

That was the general consensus, anyway.

"People are cruel," I say.

Rose laughs once. "Yeah, they are." She reaches up and peels sweaty strands of hair from her neck. "The funny thing is that I'd never even had sex before. I mean, I got fucking knocked up my first time." She opens her eyes so I can see them roll. "It's such a cliché."

"So you and Emmett left?" I murmur.

"Yeah." She wiggles her legs restlessly and scuffs the tops of her sneakers into the concrete. "He's kind of an idiot. When I told him, when everyone started talking shit about me, he said, 'Let's just go.' And against my better judgment, I went with him. But he's a fucking child. He can't even take care of himself, let alone me, let alone a baby." Rose motions to her stomach disgustedly. "I'm surprised he hasn't split by now, to be honest."

"I think he's trying."

Rose's anger-filled eyes meet mine. "You don't even know him."

"I overheard him talking to Edward. He sounded sincere about wanting to get his act together." I shrug.

Rose snorts and rolls her eyes again, looking away from me. "That's the thing with Emmett. He's always trying. But trying doesn't mean shit."

* * *

"Hey, Becca," Emmett says cheerily as I pass.

I don't correct him.

But Edward does.

"It's Bella, dumbass." He rolls his eyes at Emmett and winks at me.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry," Emmett says, surprisingly sincere.

"It's okay," I say soothingly as I drift towards the vending machines.

"So what are you doing up this late, Bella?" Emmett asks, glancing at an imaginary watch on his wrist. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"I sleep when I feel like it," I murmur as I start to feed dollars into the machine. "I don't feel like it right now."

Emmett nods. "All righty then."

I grab my fallen Coke and walk back over to them, where they sit and smoke by the pool that's turning an odd shade of emerald.

"What are you boys doing?" I ask, popping the top to my can.

"Being low-lifes," Edward replies, looking up at me from beneath his lashes. He sits on the edge of his chair, like he might bolt at any minute, but his smile is cool, calm, and relaxed.

"Hey, man, speak for yourself." Emmett points at him.

Edward points back playfully before taking a drag off his cigarette and glancing back up at me. "Wanna sit with the cool kids?" he asks.

"I thought you were low-lifes."

"Cool low-lifes," he informs me.

"I like that," Emmett allows.

I smile and take a seat next to Edward.

"So I like working at the garage," Emmett says out of nowhere. He slumps down low in his chair. His dark hair is long and boyish beneath his Snapback, and his eyes are a little drunk. I see the beer bottle dangling between his fingertips only a second later.

"Yeah?" Edward blows out a cloud of smoke and finally relaxes back in his own chair. "Good. Don't fuck it up."

"I won't." Emmett sighs. "Why does everyone always think I'm going to fuck things up?"

"Because you do, usually."

"Thanks, man," he mutters glumly, giving Edward a flat look. "You're as good at boosting my confidence as Rose is."

Edward grins sleepily and rests his head on the back of his chair.

I take a sip from my Coke and tilt my head back until my vision is filled with an endless expanse of winking stars. I blow out a breath, watching the silver cloud hang and then disappear.

"Rose has been meaner than usual lately. You think it's a pregnancy thing?"

"It could be. Or you could just be pissing her off," Edward says, not unkindly.

"Man, seriously." Emmett shifts. "She's different. She's cold or something. I mean, she's always been kind of a hard ass, but I mean—she's really bitter."

"Could it be because you knocked her up on her first time?"

"Dude, what's with you tonight?" Emmett sighs but doesn't sound particularly upset. "You're usually nice."

Edward laughs. I peep over to watch as he does it. "I'm just playing around. Look, she's probably just homesick or something. I mean, she doesn't know anyone but you and you're always out with me. So she's alone most of the time. Just spend more time with her. She's just freaked."

"I'm freaked, too," Emmett protests petulantly.

"Yeah, well, you're not the one about to squeeze a kid out of you."

I smile and glance over at Edward. He meets my gaze and drops me a sly wink.

"I know," Emmett says, slumping. "I just don't know how to talk to her. Tell me what to say."

"How the hell should I know?"

"I've seen you pick up girls. You say like, ten words to them and they're yours."

Edward's gaze skips over to me warily, and I arch my brows back at him, curious. He exhales a stiff laugh and looks back at Emmett, shaking his head. "Come on, man."

"Dude, I've _seen_ it. I've seen you in action. What do you say?"

"Look, picking a girl up is a little different than talking to your heavily pregnant girlfriend. I've never been in that situation. I don't know what to tell you."

"But you're all wise and shit," Emmett protests, his words a little slurred.

Edward laughs, and I smile.

But then, softly, I speak up. "Don't say anything to her."

Emmett's alcohol-hazed brown eyes find mine.

"Talk is worthless to Rose. So show her." I pull my legs up to my chest and take another swig of soda. "Show her you're there for her. Just be around. It's all you have to do. She's not looking for anything else."

Emmett goes quiet.

And Edward just nods and looks over at his friend. "There's your advice. Now listen to the kid and go home."

Emmett pokes his bottom lip out in thought. And then he sighs and pushes himself up. "If the love gurus say so." He staggers over to his side of the motel and disappears inside room 115.

Edward leans back and starts igniting his cigarette lighter, over and over, staring at the brief flame. "How old are you again?" he asks without looking over at me.

"I never told you," I reply. "You'll have to do better than that."

He grins, his eyes dancing. "I thought I'd give it a shot."

I roll my eyes and look back up at the sky. The soft click-hiss of Edward's lighter fills the air along with the buzz of the motel sign and the distant howl of a coyote, far, far in the distance.

"You seem old, but you look young," Edward says.

"So do you."

"So does everyone around here, I guess." Edward sighs and tosses his lighter onto his stomach carelessly. "Everyone except Emmett. He looks young _and_ acts young."

"And Mrs. Cope," I add.

He laughs. "Yeah, she's looking a little bit weathered, bless her." He sits up a little and I feel his eyes on me. "You're always around here. Don't you leave the motel?"

"You're never around. So how would you know where I am?" I shoot back, arching my brows at him, smiling playfully.

"I'm around now." He smiles, too, but his words make me nervous for some reason. My pulse takes flight and my eyes skip away from him, to my hands as I fiddle with the tab on my can.

"Tell me something," he says.

"Like what?"

"Anything. I don't care."

I inhale and keep bending the tab, back and forth, back and forth. It finally breaks. "I've never seen the ocean."

"Never?"

"Never."

"It's beautiful," he says quietly.

"Which ocean did you see?" I ask him, finally peeping over when I feel his gaze leave me.

Now he's the one staring up at the sky. I see his profile, all sharp, clean lines, but his cheeks are scruffy with an unshaven beard. I see his chest hitch up and down in a pained sigh, and then he says, "The Atlantic. Some little touristy town in North Carolina. It's the only time I've ever seen the sea."

"How old were you?"

"Seven."

It's strange, but his answer rocks me. I can't imagine this man ever being a child, even though there's lingering boyishness in his looks, in his unkempt hair, in his smile and laugh.

There's age in his eyes. The world and all its burdens and struggles are there, always, persistent in his gaze.

The eyes are what make it impossible to imagine him being little. Because I can't ever see those eyes being happily ignorant the way a child's are.

"And you remember it?" My voice is soft and careful, as is my gaze.

Edward smiles a little and looks over at me. He looks peaceful outwardly, but I see torment within. "Yeah. Like it was yesterday." He leans up way too quickly, and it puts our faces way too close.

I pull back sharply.

His brow creases with concern, but he doesn't comment. He just says, "You should see it someday."

"The Atlantic?"

"Any ocean. I'm sure they're all beautiful."

I think of how, a few weeks ago, the thought would be impossible. And I think of how now, maybe it's not so crazy.

I'm dizzied, dazzled, and overwhelmed by freedom.

"Maybe I will. One day," I murmur and smile.

* * *

**Thoughts, questions, comments, or concerns? Let me know! I hope everyone has a great week, and I'll see y'all on Thursday! oxoxox**


	12. Out With a Bang

**I hope everyone's week is going well! I'll be getting back to reviews and emails soon! Promise! (:**

* * *

**12. Out With A Bang**

Days pass by in a blur of heat and midnight smokes and quiet-spoken words.

I don't mind so much that I'm cleaning shit out of toilets and scrubbing filthy floors. I don't mind so much that I'm lonely half the time, locked up in the motel room.

I don't mind because it's better to be lonely than scared.

* * *

It's Saturday night, and we're all sitting on the old pool chairs again, beneath the red haze of the motel sign.

Jasper doesn't speak and Seth won't stop talking. Rose glares and Emmett smiles. And Edward just stays quiet, which I've found he's inclined to do.

He seems different tonight; darker, like he's dimmed and muted and brooding. He'll look over, catch me staring, give me a wink and a smile, but it's not the same. I can tell.

"God, this is boring," Jasper finally says. I think it might be the first time I've ever heard him speak. "Is this really what we're doing with a Saturday night?"

"What else is there to do?" Rose grumbles, picking at the hem of her frayed jean shorts.

Jasper shrugs carelessly and leans back farther into his chair. He jerks his hat down over his face.

"We could go somewhere," Seth interjects brightly.

"Going somewhere costs money," Edward replies and flicks his cigarette to the broken concrete. He exhales tiredly and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "This doesn't cost anything."

"But Jasper's right. This _is_ boring," Seth says.

"I'm broke until payday," Edward mutters with a sigh.

"Me, too," Jasper announces gruffly from beneath his hat.

"So are we," Rose adds.

Seth falls back into his chair with a frown. "I didn't think being an adult would be so shitty."

Edward halfway laughs, but it's a bitter sound.

"We could go to Maggie's," Emmett suggests, tossing a bouncy ball up and down in his hand, as he's been doing for the last hour straight. "It's only ten minutes away, and if you buy a beer, you get free peanuts."

"That'll certainly liven things up," Jasper remarks dully.

But then Seth is hopping up, and so is Emmett, and it's suddenly an unspoken fact that everyone's going to Maggie's.

Everyone but me.

I watch as the little group gets up and starts to stagger away, towards the parking lot and their waiting, run-down cars. Seth and Emmett push playfully at each other, their laughter howling through the quiet night.

"You going?"

I glance up towards the soft-spoken question.

Edward's standing, his hands in his pockets, his eyes squinted at me in question.

"I don't think so," I say softly.

But he just smiles, all slow and easy. He jerks his chin towards the parking lot, and all he says is, "C'mon. I'll give you a ride."

And I don't know why I do it, but I get up. I go with him.

* * *

Edward's ride is a burnt-orange, rusted out 1966 Mustang.

"Looks like shit but runs like a top," Edward comments with a sleepy grin as he jerks open my door. Pieces of rust flake off.

I can't help my smile as I crawl into the passenger seat. It smells like worn leather and grease and Old Spice.

It's kind of perfect.

It smells like comfort.

* * *

"Will they let me in?" I ask as Edward parks outside a shack-like building on the outskirts of town.

Edward squints over at me, debating. "Take your hair down," he says.

I jerk out my hair elastic, letting the wild curls that smell like hotel shampoo spill over my shoulders.

Edward reaches over. I try to pull back, but there isn't enough room in the car. But he doesn't touch me. Not really. He just fluffs up my hair and pulls it closer around my face.

Then he nods. "There. You look old enough now."

I feel heat kiss my cheeks.

I smile at him.

He winks back.

* * *

The air is heavy smoke and the stench of beer and sweat.

I feel my eyes water as soon as we clear the door.

It's loud and hazy. Country music blares out of fuzzy-sounding speakers, and there's a mass of people dancing to it on uneven hardwood floors.

I want to lean into Edward's side a little, but that makes me nervous, too. So I just stick close to him. I'm his shadow as he moves through the crowd, where Emmett and Seth wave him down.

"Thought you guys got lost," Em announces when we near the table. His cheeks are already alcohol-kissed pink, and his smile is goofy and too big.

Rose is sitting sulkily beside him, nursing a Coke.

"Where are Jasper and Seth?" Edward asks, craning his neck around to spot them.

"Dancing with girls. Where else would they be?" Emmett rolls his eyes and tips back a mug of beer, taking a huge sip. Then he grins at Edward. "Seth is dancing with that girl you fucked—the redhead. That waitress. Vivian, Veronica, something."

"Vicky." Edward's eyes slide over to me a bit hesitantly as he eases into the booth next to Emmett. "Her name's Vicky," he adds softly, maybe embarrassedly.

I can't tell.

Rose snorts disgustedly but doesn't comment further.

I take the seat beside her, across from Edward.

He meets my eyes in the dim haze of the bar, but I quickly look away.

"I don't know how you keep all their names straight, dude."

Edward sighs, a bit irritably. "There aren't that many names to keep straight, Emmett. Jesus." Then he flags down the pretty waitress with the short shorts and asks for a beer.

Emmett just chuckles and shakes his head. "Whatever you say. The point is, Seth seemed like he was in love."

"Seth's always in love with someone." Edward picks at the worn tabletop and seems to withdraw into himself even more. He goes quiet and dark and I see his eyes spinning with old memories and a past I most likely don't want to know about.

* * *

An hour and three Cokes later, I have to go to the bathroom.

I feel silly asking Rose to go with me, so I just go alone.

I keep my head down as I take quick strides through the dancing drunks. Everyone is hollering and pushing and laughing, and I don't really like it.

This is Mama's world.

She lived and breathed dirty bars and dirty men and dirty habits. This was the place she left me every night for. These loud, inconsiderate, alcohol-silly people were who she preferred over my company.

"Whoops!"

I gasp as I feel someone topple into me. It's an older man, tall and skinny with sun-leathered skin. He grabs my arm tightly with the pretense of steadying me.

I jerk away.

"'Cuse me, cutie," he slurs into my face, his breath smelling of watery beer and cheap cigarettes.

I feel sick, but when he smiles at me, indecent and leering, I feel even worse. I duck away from him, ignoring his calls for me to return.

I run into the overcrowded bathroom that smells like perfume and hairspray, and I push my way into a stall. I can't lock the door, but I put my foot up against it to keep anyone from busting in.

I cry. Just a little.

But I pull myself together. I think of creeks and Grandma's gentle touch and soft words. I think of pretty places and sunsets and sunrises. And then I'm okay again.

* * *

Emmett and Rose are gone when I get back to the table.

I ask Edward where they are.

"Dancing," he replies without looking up at me. He's scooting his half empty mug of beer back and forth on the table, watching the golden brown liquid slosh around.

"That's nice. Did he ask?"

Edward smirks a little at this and meets my gaze beneath his lashes. "Yeah. And had to drag her onto the floor, too."

I start to smile, but before I can, the man from the dance floor is back.

He's half staggering into our table. "Oh, there you are. Where'd you go, cutie?"

Edward glances between the man and me briefly.

"Nowhere," I say softly, not making eye contact. I drop back into the habit of having a dipped head and a meek voice and praying not to be noticed.

"What's your name?" he asks loudly.

My stomach twists and my body cringes.

And then Edward speaks up. He doesn't even raise his voice. His words are even and measured. "She's with me, man."

"Oh, yeah?" The man hiccups and then kind of chuckles.

Edward just nods. He doesn't even bother looking up at the guy. "Yeah."

It's all he has to say.

The man laughs drunkenly and nods stupidly and stumbles away, back into the crazed crowd.

I relax ever so slightly.

_It wasn't a big deal_, I tell myself. _It wasn't anything to get so upset over._

"Fucking idiot." Edward rolls his eyes and exhales a small laugh. But then I feel his eyes on my too-pale face. "Are you okay?"

"Can you take me back?" I ask quickly, quietly. "Can you take me back to the motel, I mean? I just need—"

He doesn't even let me finish my bogus explanation. He's already standing. "Yeah." He's digging in his pockets for his keys. "Let's go."

* * *

**I forgot to mention a few chapters ago how much I liked the responses about the question to whether or not Bella should try to save/change Edward. I loved that everyone said how unrealistic that was and how you can't change someone. I thought that was great.**

**Anyway, I do have another question for y'all. Do y'all think Edward is being a little flirty with Bella? Or do you just think he's being nice? ;)**

**oxoxox**


	13. Try Tonight

**Hey, y'all! I'm sorry I've gotten off schedule. Honestly, school is super stressful! So I guess I'll just update when I can again. I'm not going to try to stick to a schedule for a while, just until things ease up. I don't want to disappoint y'all anymore! :)**

**Anyways, here we go!**

* * *

**13. Try Tonight**

Edward kills the engine once we're parked at the motel.

The car rattles and pops as it cools off, and yellow streetlamp light shines through the windshield.

We sit in silence for a moment.

I want to get out of the car, but the door's broken. Edward can only open it from the outside, so I have to wait for him.

But he's digging in his pocket for his beat-up pack of Marlboros instead of climbing out. He lights one and exhales a cloud of smoke slowly. His eyes are fixed on the red motel sign, but I don't think he's seeing anything.

"You wanna go somewhere else?" he asks, soft but sudden.

I grow tense. I grow wary. But I try to keep my voice light as I ask, "Like where? Everything's closed now."

Edward cuts his eyes over to me. They sparkle with a dark, hidden kind of mischievousness. "Some things never close."

I stay stony-quiet and unsure.

But he is quick to comfort. "It's only a few miles away. It's my favorite place. I think you'll like it."

_If he wanted to hurt you, he would have already_, I tell myself.

But logic does nothing to quiet old fear.

"I don't know," I say.

He doesn't persuade, plead, or whine. He just exhales more smoke and watches the flickering motel sign, allowing me to make up my mind without the added pressure of his gaze.

A moment passes.

I speak before I really think it through. Because if I think it through, the answer will be no. And part of me wants to go.

So I say yes.

* * *

The hot, dry air rushes through the open car windows as we barrel down the road, leaving the motel and town far behind in favor of endless desert and an open sky too clear to be real.

I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and marvel.

Because nighttime rides with nice boys in fast cars only happen to _other girls_. Not to me.

Not me, who is more inclined to dream of something than to experience it. Not me, who cringes if a boy looks my way. Not me, who would rather stay quiet and drift aimlessly through made-up worlds than open my eyes and actually see the one I live in.

Edward notices me, with my eyes closed and my head back. "You like fast cars?" he asks. I can hear the squinty-eyed grin in his voice.

I inhale deeply, dragging the scent of freedom and purity into my lungs, and say, "I just like going fast. Cars, roller coasters, horses… anything really. As long as I can feel the wind."

* * *

"What is this?"

My heartbeat is severe and my palms are sweaty.

My eyes scan this unremarkable, empty stretch of desert so nervously. It's desolate here. Not one sign of human existence in sight. And the only light comes from the silver-dollar moon that shines over beige rock and scraggly foliage.

"Get out and see." Edward's opened my door for me, and now he leans down to meet my eyes, a smile dancing on his lips.

I don't want to move.

I'm scared of how lonely it is out here, of how very aware I am of Edward's gender and considerable size advantage.

But he's walking away from the car, his hands shoved down in his pockets, his back to me—the perfect picture of nonthreatening.

I take a deep breath and slip out of the passenger seat.

_It's okay. He's not going to hurt you. _

My assurances make my feet shuffle forward. But my worries keep me hanging back a good ten feet from Edward.

We walk for a quiet lifetime.

And when I'm starting to get tired, Edward finally pauses.

I ease up carefully beside him and stare down at the kiddie-pool sized body of water in front of us. There's a sun-bleached stretch of wood that hangs on the edge of the pool, but that's the only sign of man for miles and miles.

"What is it?" I ask.

Edward smirks and bends down, taking off his shoes.

I sidestep until there's a few more feet between us. Worries resurface, and I feel panicky, flighty, but it's for nothing. His shoes are the only things he removes.

"Stick your feet in," he says, rolling up his jeans until they come midway up his calves. And then he sits on the wooden planks and dunks his legs in. He looks up at me, and some of his hair falls in his eyes.

It makes him look younger, less of a threat.

It makes the stiffness of my limbs loosen ever so slightly.

So I remove my shoes as well, and take a seat beside him.

When I put my legs in, I gasp.

"It's a hot spring," Edward tells me when I swing my slightly worried gaze to him.

"Oh," I murmur, relaxing my legs a little in the burning hot water. "It's really warm."

"Like a hot tub." Edward shifts and grabs his cigarettes from his pocket. He offers me one.

I take it.

"I come out here a lot," he says around the unlit smoke he has dangling in his mouth. He pats around until he finds his lighter in his other pocket. "Sometimes, I go swimming in it."

"Doesn't it scald you?" I ask, frowning.

His lighter hisses and orange flame flickers through the violet-blue night. It casts his smiling face in shadow. "No. It's not that hot." He leans over to light my cigarette after he's lit his.

And then we collapse into easy silence.

I think this is the first time in three years my feet haven't been ice-cold and clammy. So I savor the moment.

I look up at the sky, at the swirls of deep purple and navy blue, at the explosions of hot-white stars. The air has finally cooled off, and I can see my breath. But I'm not cold, not with my legs submerged.

"I always come out here at night," he says.

I peep over at him. He's looking up at the sky, too.

"Is that… is that where you're coming from when you get in so late?" I ask softly, maybe a little hopefully, even though I know better.

To his credit, he doesn't lie.

He just shrugs. "Sometimes," he says.

I don't press. I don't need to. I've seen the lipstick stains and rumpled clothes and extra messy hair. But I can pretend I don't see it, as long as we don't talk about it.

"I'm sorry. About that guy," Edward says, out of the blue.

I look over at him sharply, my eyes going wide. Surprise clouds my mind for a minute. But I finally respond. "It's not your fault."

"I told you to come to the bar."

"I made the choice to."

Edward gives a small smile but doesn't look at me. He takes another drag from his cigarette before blowing out careful rings of smoke. "We're all kind of fucked-up."

"What?" I ask.

His eyes flicker over to mine. His irises are golden brown and green, a striking hazel that dazzles and saddens and mesmerizes. "Everyone at the motel. In this town. We're all screwed up, you know? We've had a lot of people fuck us up." Old pain flashes in his gaze. Pain and brutal honesty. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he adds, and I don't know if he's talking to me or himself.

I don't know.

Maybe he's talking to both of us.

* * *

**Feeling differently about Edward? Or are you still suspicious?**

**Okay. I have a ton of messages in my inbox I see, so I promise I will respond to everyone who's been waiting... like... two months.**

**Annnnnd to Sherrie the reviewer, make an account please so I can respond to you directly! I loved your questions but of course I can't answer them!**

**Also, I tried to respond to everyone's review for that last chapter and... failed miserably. I got most of them, I think, but if I missed you, I'll try again for this chapter! (:**

**Have a great rest of the week! (: oxoxo**


	14. Break My Fall

**Hi, everyone! I promise I'm going to respond to any messages I've gotten, and I'm planning on responding to some reviews, as well! As many as I can! (: **

* * *

**14. Break My Fall**

"Where did you go last night?" Rose asks as we put new sheets on the bed.

"Back to the motel," I reply, even though it's only halfway true. But Edward taking me to the hot spring seems like a secret, one I don't care to share with anyone, least of all Rose.

"With Edward," she says, because it isn't a question.

I nod, struggling with the fitted sheet I'm trying to wriggle onto the mattress.

"Bella, you seem like an all right girl—maybe a little weird, but all right nonetheless." Rose blows out a breath. Her wispy blonde bangs flutter up briefly before settling back into her eyes, catching in mascara-caked lashes. "So you should stay away from Edward."

My voice is as neutral as my face. "I'm not close to him, Rose. He just gave me a ride home."

"Look, Edward's a nice guy for the most part, I'll admit it. I mean, he sleeps around, but lots of guys do and at least Edward treats the girls decent enough. I've never even heard him raise his voice. I'm just saying that he's involved in some shady shit." Then Rose exhales and squints at the window. "Emmett, too, apparently."

"Every person I've ever known has been involved in shady dealings," I say softly. "I know how to keep out of it."

"You're not even gonna ask what it is?" Rose demands.

I finally get the sheet wrestled onto the mattress, and give her a small smile. "I told you, I know how to keep out of it. Asking about details is a mistake."

And for maybe the first time since I've known her, Rose cracks a small smile back at me—a genuine one.

* * *

Rose and I are walking along the second level of the motel when Edward and Emmett appear on the ground level.

"Hey, girls," Emmett hollers up. He's sweaty but grinning from ear to ear, as always.

"Hey," Rose and I reply.

I look down at Edward as we walk. He's looking up at me already, and when our eyes meet, he drops a wink. He's car-mechanic dirty and sweaty, but he's just as at ease as Emmett.

"We got paid," Emmett cries victoriously. "You girls wanna do something tonight?"

I look to Rose for an answer.

But she's grimacing as she pulls the cleaning cart to a stop. She peers down over the railing at her boyfriend. Anger and bitterness age her, and it's almost impossible to think she's nineteen.

"You just got paid and you wanna go blow it?" she asks. Her voice is surprisingly subdued.

Emmett looks like a kicked puppy.

"I just thought we could do something fun," he murmurs. It's the first time I've heard him sound uncertain.

"That's funny. That's exactly what you said before this happened." Rose points to her stomach and then starts pushing the cleaning cart again, completely dismissing him.

Edward covers his mouth to hide a grin, but he isn't sly enough.

Emmett catches him and flips him off before running after Rose. "Wait up!" he hollers.

But I stay behind.

So does Edward.

He looks up at me, squinting against the sun. His hair is heat-curled and his cheeks are work-flushed. He's working-class normal, but he's model pretty.

He smiles.

I think of what Rose said fifteen minutes ago.

But I still smile back a little.

"Edward!"

We both glance towards the sharp cry, and I see Alice running up in platforms and a skirt as short as one of my mama's. Her long, silky black hair flies out behind her, and her mascara is running again, but I don't see tears, just big, world-weary eyes filled with panic.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks immediately.

She runs straight into his arms, and I watch as he hugs her tightly, without hesitation, without thought. It's all instinct.

I feel a stab of jealousy even though I know it's not nice.

I want easy, obvious hugs. I want carefree touches and calming affections. I want it so bad. But you can't get love if you don't give it. And I don't think I've ever loved anyone. Not like I should.

Something's wrong with me. I've always known it, and I've never questioned it. It just is, the same way my hair is curly and my eyes are brown.

"What's wrong?" he repeats gently, murmuring his question into the crown of her hair. Even with her platforms, he can easily rest his chin on the top of her head.

"I have nowhere else to go," she sobs. She's getting snot and mascara on his white T-shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind. "I have no one else to go _to_."

"What happened, sweetheart?" he asks softly, slowly, with such care.

"God, how did my life turn out this way?" Alice cries so violently, with such clarity that I feel my chest squeeze and my eyes burn. "How did everything turn out so shitty, Edward? I have nothing. _Nothing_."

"Alice," Edward sighs. I see the muscles in his arms start to strain as he holds most of her weight, trying to keep her on her feet. "You have to tell me what's wrong or I can't help you."

"I don't have anywhere to live! Felix kicked me out. I don't know what to do." Alice hiccups into Edward's chest and then pulls away enough to look up at him. Her fists clench at the soft material of his T-shirt, and her tear-filled eyes plead so pitifully. "Can I stay with you? Just for a few days? Until I get my own place?"

I see the conflict in Edward's gaze.

I wait curiously for his answer.

I think of what Rose told me about him, about his phobia of having people in his room.

But he reaches out, swipes tears away from Alice's cheeks, and nods. "Of course. Of course you can."

She smiles weakly before throwing herself back into his hold.

"Bella! What the hell? We have two more rooms to clean!" Rose calls from the other end of the motel. I see Emmett walking away dejectedly, his head hanging and his hands limp by his sides.

"Coming," I say softly, but not before glancing down at Edward again.

He's looking up now, his arms cradling Alice to him gently.

I smile at him, because he's doing the right thing, and then I walk away to help Rose finish up.

* * *

**What do y'all think about that? Questions, comments, or concerns are welcome! (: oxoxox Have a great week, everyone!**


	15. Resistance

**Hi, everyone! I went home for the weekend. First time I've been home since the beginning of the school year. I took the busses (which I've never done before), and I think I've been scarred for life. Never. Again.**

**Anyway, enjoy! Sorry the chapters are so spotty. It's just been so crazy. When Christmas break kicks in at the beginning of December, I should update regularly and hopefully (HOPEFULLY!) finish out the story then. I have the ending in sight (in my mind) so that's a positive. If I had to guess how many chapters there'll be, though, I wouldn't have a clue still. 50, maybe? I don't even know.**

* * *

**15. Resistance**

Alice is small and wired, a mixture of bird and child that contradicts her tear-streaked makeup and thick eyeliner.

She sits next to me, poolside, wearing nothing but a big white T-shirt—Edward's, most likely.

"Peach-O?" she chirps, offering her bag of candy.

I smile and reach over, grabbing one. "Thanks," I murmur.

"You're welcome." Alice beams like she wasn't sobbing a few hours earlier. "I love candy. I found Edward's stash. He's a closeted candy junkie. Do you like candy?" Before I can respond to the rapidly fired question, she kind of blushes and hiccups a quick giggle. "Sorry. I've already downed like five Pixy Stix and a whole bag of Skittles. It's my way of coping."

I nod in understanding.

Alice's eyes narrow playfully. "You don't say much, do you?"

I shrug.

"That's okay. I like quiet people. They're the smart ones." She nods and digs into her Peach-O bag, grabbing a handful. "Want some more?"

* * *

Later, when I'm stretched out by myself in the parking lot, staring up at the sky, Edward finds me.

He lies down next to me on concrete that's still sun-warmed. He makes sure not to get too close.

"What are you doing?" he asks me softly.

I blow a stream of smoke up into the glittery, star-speckled sky. "Thinking."

"What about?" I hear the snap and hiss of Edward's lighter, smell the first touches of smoke from his cigarette.

"I don't know," I reply hollowly.

We lapse into deep silence.

My mind spins and fractures into too many directions to keep up. I let my eyes drift shut and let my thoughts take flight.

I get lost like this, and it takes effort to pull myself back down, out of the sky and onto this earth, into this moment. But I have to tell Edward something.

"You did the right thing," I say.

Edward's eyes cut over to me. "What?"

"With Alice. That was nice of you, to take her in like that."

Edward's frown is small but significant. He looks back to the heavens and takes a drag from his cigarette. His cheeks hollow and his words are smoke. "Well, one good thing doesn't cancel out all the bad."

"What's so bad about you, Edward?" I murmur curiously, turning my head towards him.

"Ask Rose. I'm sure she'll tell you all my dirty secrets," he replies, trying to make light of it.

"Rose just tells me you sleep around. Lots of boys do that and don't feel so beat-up about it."

He turns his head to face mine and lets out a small sigh. Peppermint breath touches my lips. It's different than the heat and beer and cheap cigarettes I'm used to.

Edward's eyes are big and pretty, but when they look, they really _see_. And that's kind of scary.

I watch with a nervously trapped breath as he shifts and props up on his elbow, staring down at me. He's closer now, and I can feel the warmth of his body, the brush of his breath against my face, the weight of his stare.

"I like the way you look at me," he says quietly.

I'm frozen stiff, so aware of how easy it would be for him to crawl on top of me and hold me down and bring back years worth of evil touches and ugly memories.

I have lots of things held back, you see. Held back and tucked away, locked tightly in dark corners of my mind. But there's only so much I can do. I can only keep ugly things away for so long.

It just takes so much energy.

"How do I look at you?" I whisper shakily.

Edward's eyes move all over my face now.

I'm so scared that I could tremble, but the years have taught me better than to make sudden movements. I keep still in cases like these. Keep still and pray not to be noticed.

"You just look earnest or something, like you aren't judging." Edward's face kind of scrunches up and he exhales a soft laugh. "That sounded so fucking lame. Sorry."

I feel a little air come back into my lungs, but my smile is still tentative. "It's okay. It didn't sound lame."

Edward smiles back sleepily. He seems relaxed again, like always, but now that I've seen _more_, I can see _it_ now, all the restlessness and anger and weariness in him.

I'm staring too hard, caught up in his dark mystery, and he's staring back, caught up in something else entirely. I recognize it, but it's a little too late because he's already leaning down.

His nose touches my nose and his lips almost touch my lips.

I'm on my feet before I realize it, and my heartbeat is panicked. "I have… to go to bed," I hear myself say. I can't believe I can even get the words out sensibly.

"Bella, wait—" Edward starts, sounding oh-so apologetic.

But Mama's boyfriend who liked to drink always sounded oh-so apologetic, too, after he'd sobered up. After he'd seen the black eyes he gave me and Mama. After he saw fear and accusation in my ten-year-old eyes.

Apologies mean so little.

I'm already jogging away, back to the motel and the safety of my room. But when I hear Edward get up, I run. I run all the way up the steps and into my room and I lock my door tightly.

I stay up three hours later than I want just to make sure I'm alone.

And I am.

* * *

**I have a feeling everyone's gonna be super pissed at Edward. But hold off on the pitch forks for now. He just doesn't really know how to act around a girl he isn't romantically involved in.**

**Have a great rest of the week! :)**

**oxoxoxox**


	16. Back To The Basics

***hangs head in shame* Sorry for the wait, guys. About mid-December, I'll finally stop being so spotty with my updates. That's Christmas break for me! (: Anyway, I'll update again a little while later to hopelessly try to make up for my overall failure! ;)**

* * *

**16. Back To The Basics**

I wake from bad dreams to bad reality.

He's pounding on the door.

Well, knocking, really, but he's still incessant about it.

"Bella? Please open the door. Just for a minute," he says from the other side of paper-thin wood. "Just talk to me for a second."

I roll over in the bed and stare up at the ceiling, squinting at the early morning light that slips past the edges of the curtains.

"Bella. Please."

I get up slowly and unlock the door. I open it just a crack and peer at him warily.

Relief colors his features. He's in his work shirt, and he's freshly showered, bleary-eyed. "Hey," he says.

I don't reply.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about last night. I wasn't trying to start anything."

"Then what were you doing?" I counter softly.

Edward looks down at me for a moment before blowing out a quick sigh. He runs his hands through his shower-wet curls and makes a mess of them. "I don't know."

I lean heavily against the wall, keeping the crack between the door and doorframe as slim as I can.

Edward just glances around for a moment, pulling together scrambled thoughts. "Okay. Maybe I was trying to kiss you. But I don't know _why_ I did it, Bella. I promise I'm not after you or anything like that. It's just…" Frustration briefly takes over, and I jump when he smacks his fist against the doorframe. But his anger is all at himself, not at me.

I look up at him nervously from beneath my lashes, and when he meets my eyes again, he sighs and slumps forward, leaning his weight against the outside wall.

"I won't do anything like that again. I promise," he murmurs. "I don't want you to be scared of me."

"Why does it matter so much how I feel about you?" I ask.

"I don't know," he answers, without hesitation. "It just does."

* * *

"Bella!"

I look down at Alice as she runs across the courtyard. She's wearing her shorts and one of Edward's shirts, tied and knotted in the front.

"Ugh," Rose grunts as we push the cart to our last room.

"Bella, hey!" Alice exclaims from below. She waves.

I wave back.

"Hey, Rose," Alice adds, maybe a little hopefully.

But Rose just rolls her eyes and knocks on the next room door. "Housecleaning!"

"Hey, do you guys want to go to the races tonight?" Alice asks, fidgeting and shifting her bare feet on scorching-hot concrete.

"No. It's where all the losers hang out," Rose sniffs, unlocking the door.

"Emmett's going and so is Edward."

"I rest my case," Rose mutters and barges into the room.

But I hang back and lean against the banister, looking down at Alice. "What races?"

Alice beams. "Drag races. It's one of the only good things the desert is good for. Wide open spaces and all. You should come, Bella. You can go with me and Edward."

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on!" Alice swishes her arms back and forth around her body. "Please? It's Friday night!"

My eyes flicker over to Rose, but she's already inside with her back decidedly turned to me. I look back down to Alice and shrug. "Maybe."

The tiny girl who was sobbing and broken yesterday only grins up at me now, full of light. She points. "You're going."

* * *

"The races are stupid, Bella."

I look up from my thoughts, startled.

Rose is aggressively fluffing pillows, glaring. "You shouldn't get involved in that shit," she says without looking at me.

I glance back to my duster, watching as I make lazy sweeps over cheap wooden furniture. "I didn't say I was going."

"But you will. Because fucking Edward is."

Heat touches my cheeks, the angry kind. Soft words with hard force break free before I can push them back. "_I don't like Edward_."

Rose does look at me now. I can feel her shock all the way from the other side of the room. "Where the fuck did that come from? Are you pissed he's shacking up with the whore or something?"

_She isn't a whore._

_I'm not pissed. _

_Edward messed everything up._

It's all things I want to say.

It's all the things I _don't_.

I just shake my head and finish my dusting in silence.

Rose doesn't speak to me again.

* * *

**This is a super short chapter. Sorry. But the next one will be slightly longer. And it will come to y'all soon, I promise.**

**Sorry I'm so slack about responding to PMs. I'm making a big effort to do better at that. Responding to reviews is kind of hopeless for me at this point (I'll get better with that in a few months) so in the mean time, if you want to chit chat, please message me directly. I respond to all my PMs. Eventually. **

**Also, I have some pictures posted on my profile. Links, I guess, is more like it. Y'all can check them out, if you'd like. I also have a Facebook and Instagram, so if we aren't friends, add me! I'd be glad to talk on there, as well! oxoxoxo**

**Have a fabulous rest of the week!**

**AND OH! Check out casualcruelty! She contacted me a while back about a fantastic tumblr account she and her friends put together. It's absolutely lovely. They put together a playlist for Hollywood and it's fabulous. :)**

**oxoxoxox**


	17. Off To The Races

**Lana fans knew this chapter title was coming soon. ;)**

**Sorry I got a little delayed again. I took a nap that was supposed to be a 3 hour nap and turned into a 10 hour one, so now my sleep schedule is backwards. AGAIN.**

**Anyway, enjoy! (;**

* * *

**17. Off To The Races**

Alice is at my door, her feline eyes dusted with shadowy makeup and her clothes trailer-trash tight. But she's all innocent smiles beneath the stereotype.

"You look pretty," she tells me.

I glance down at my ratty denim shorts and faded Coca-Cola T-shirt uncertainly. "Oh. Thank you," I murmur.

"You have such pretty hair, Bella." Alice reaches out and touches the wild curls gently before grabbing my hand. "Come on! Let's go."

* * *

Edward is leaning against the wall beneath the red neon glow of the flickering motel sign. He's smoking, his cigarette pinched between his forefinger and thumb.

He looks so miserable when he thinks no one's watching, but then he sees me and Alice approaching, and everything about him changes.

"You guys ready?" he asks, dropping the cigarette and smearing out the flame with his work boot.

"Yeah," Alice replies, looping her arm with mine.

Edward's eyes slip over to me. I see a little guilt flash in his pretty hazel gaze, and his gentle smile is another apology.

I smile back politely.

* * *

"You can sit shotgun," Alice announces as soon as we're at the car. She starts climbing over the passenger seat to get in the back without hesitation, giving me no time to protest.

"Edward!"

I glance over at Emmett the same time Edward does.

"You going to the races?" he calls across the parking lot, headed for his beat-up old Jeep.

"Yeah," Edward says.

"Cool. See you there!"

Edward just nods and then glances over at me. He opens his mouth, but Alice finally gets into the backseat so I climb into the front. Edward sighs and shuts the door for me.

* * *

It's a bigger event than I thought.

On this strip of flat, straight road, in the middle of this seemingly endless desert, is a chaotic cluster of cars and people and shouts and laughter. The sky is midnight blue, but every headlight on every car is lit up, trapping us inside a dusty golden bubble of light.

People have lawn chairs scattered everywhere, old radios playing old rock. The air smells like beer and sweat and car grease, and everyone looks worn and tired and leathered.

I feel out of step and out of place here.

This is another one of Mama's worlds—not mine.

Alice squeaks sharply, making me jump, but Jasper just popped her on the rear and now he's looking at Edward, who's saying something with his eyes. Jasper nods.

Edward sighs and glances over at us girls. "Watch after her, Alice, okay?"

"Oh, Edward. Bella's a big girl," Alice murmurs, but she grabs my hand again.

Edward's eyes find mine again briefly before he walks off with Jasper. Something about the whole situation makes my skin prickle. Something makes me think they're good boys up to no-good things.

* * *

"Hey, Bella!"

I glance suspiciously towards the voice and find Seth. He's string-bean-tall and wiry, drowning in some holey jeans and a white T-shirt. He's wearing a backwards baseball cap, and he looks so much younger than twenty.

"Hey, um, Alice," Seth adds.

"Hi, Seth." Alice is hardly paying him any attention. Her eyes are roaming all over the place like a child's, excitable and unfocused.

Seth uses her distraction to eye every inch of her skin-tight outfit. And even though he looks so sweet and harmless, the motivation behind his gaze is still like every other man's.

I feel repulsed.

"Alice!"

Alice waves at the lanky, greasy looking guy who just called her name. He stands by a boxy little car with a flashy paint job and nods at her, mouthing, "Come here."

She glances at Seth. "Hang with Bella for a second, okay? I'll be right back, Bella!" And then she's running over to the man, catching the attention of every male that she passes in her short skirt.

* * *

Seth bites his nails.

They're bloody and chewed to pieces, and he's always fidgeting, moving, a bundle of energy that has a hard time focusing. Beneath happy smiles and a carefree attitude, he slouches with the weight of something heavy and dark.

It isn't something I ask about.

But as the night drags on and Alice is called from car to car to take a ride, and Edward is nowhere to be found, Seth starts talking to me.

He asks me a few questions at first. Where I'm from and all. But I lie or give no answer at all, and he finally takes the hint. He just starts talking about himself, instead.

From Kentucky, raised in a poor family with a bastard for a father. He doesn't give many more details, but I know the story all too well.

He probably had a hard time in school. Couldn't focus so he got bad grades. His father called him stupid and so did everyone else, and finally, Seth started believing it himself and dropped out. Wandered. Got lost somewhere along the way.

It's what happened to Sam.

I tilt my head back and look at the sky as Seth and I walk past crazy cars. I can't see the stars, though. The lights are too bright here.

"Hey, they sell hot dogs over there. Wanna get one?" Seth asks brightly. Because sometimes people don't mind being lost. They can be happy anywhere. Relatively unbothered and free.

I want to ask him how he does it.

But I just nod and smile.

* * *

**Background on Seth! I'm going to try to give backgrounds on all the characters. I know them myself, but I want to share them. It's just kind of difficult to introduce some of these things because the story isn't focused on them. I hope Seth's background didn't feel out of place. Bella is just really good at observing.**

**Anyway, do y'all think Bella has feelings for Edward? Romantic ones? Do you think she's got a crush or do you believe her when she says she's still totally not interested? And where do you think Edward's feelings lie? Any character you're more curious about than another?**

**Let me know! I love hearing from y'all! I'll be back soon! Thanks for being so understanding, everyone. It means a lot! oxoxox**


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